


Precision

by WarriorOmen



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Fluff, M/M, Mission Fic, Post-Movie, Undercover Missions, brief mentions of violence, possible canon divergence, slight canon divergence maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 09:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25967623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorOmen/pseuds/WarriorOmen
Summary: None of them are comfortable. Except Joe, it seems. Joe makes it look easy. Simplistic, even, judging by the way he effortlessly glides and charms his way through the expansive ball/congregating/entertaining room. Something that never failed to fascinate Nicky was the way Joe could integrate himself almost seamlessly into any scenario, situation, or environment.--Going undercover in the 21st century is an oxymoron, with a cellphone in every pocket,  but at least it gives Nicky a chance to see Joe in a fancy tux,  commandeering a room and basking in the glory of a long-favourite past-time.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 32
Kudos: 349





	Precision

**Author's Note:**

> Some of this is very self indulgent. One very late July night/early morning I was furiously typing out phone notes about what a mission fic with the Guard in formal wear and Nicky sniping in a suit would be like. It expanded. A lot. I didn't intend to use Nicky's POV at first, but with so much shameless Joe watching it made sense to have it be told from his perspective. I ended up with around five pages of notes before the fic was written. So here it is!

For one year and four months, they rest. Recuperate. Consider their new Booker-less and mortal Andy status.

They take time apart, Nicky and Joe disappearing in one direction, Andy and Nile another, before they all meet up at the six month mark to train Nile together tucked far away in the backwoods of some small Northern European country, secluded and undetected.

Since those six months, they’d remained together, comfortable, and quiet as they could be.

Then, one early spring evening, Copley calls.

He describes to them a cover-op, a party being hosted by some threatening criminal entity or another, happening in the Swiss Alps next week out. He’s scarcely got the words ‘undercover’ and ‘secretive’ out before Andy snaps.

“No.”

“Andy if-“

“Undercover work? In the 21st century where there are cameras and recording devices in every pocket? How is that going to work?”

Nicky rubbed his temple, he could not actually see Copley, but the tone Andy was projecting to the phone (on speaker) was enough to make him think of the same neutralized expression that seemed permanently plastered to the man’s face during any work discussion.

At his side, bent over their table, Joe fidgets, but says nothing. Andy’s irritation is enough to engulf an entire room.

Copley continues.

“I can make it possible, there are ways to make it seamless, the area is remote. A quick job, good pay. Six hits, most I estimate, and it’s done.”

Andy half-growled, “And then what? You going to confiscate every personal phone in the vicinity?”

There’s silence, but then;

“I know what I’m doing, Andy.” He tries, and Nicky may be imagining it, but he can almost hear an unspoken ‘trust me’ hanging there. Which Copley seems to be wise enough to not say. Because they don’t trust him-not exactly. It’s a convenience thing, a promise that if he helps them, he can stay breathing.

When he fails to get a response from any of them, the computer Nile is sat in front of dings, Nile squinting at the transfer document.

“I’ve sent the required information about the job along.” Copley says to the overall silence, “Consider it.”

He ends the call himself, Andy looking no less annoyed than she had before, Nile already glancing over the file, though she knows Andy has already made up her mind.

They don’t tell Copley until the next day, precisely 24 hours later.

\----

So here they were.

None of them are comfortable. Except Joe, it seems.

Joe makes it look easy. Simplistic, even, judging by the way he effortlessly glides and charms his way through the expansive ball/congregating/entertaining room. Something that never failed to fascinate Nicky was the way Joe could integrate himself almost seamlessly into any scenario, situation, or environment. Neither Andy nor himself had that ability. Not when it came to cavorting, anyway. Nicky more quietly reserved, Andy lacking in the ability to care enough to fake it.

Nile seemed to be more in the middle. She did not appear overly comfortable with the mingling, but she had enough personal grace and adaptability to make it seem somewhat effortless to have a decent time.

All their eyes remained sharp on the surrounding area, awaiting the arrival of their target. And for all his schmoozing, Nicky knew Joe’s surveillance was tack-sharp, multitasking to a degree no one he was currently conversing with could have possibly noticed.

“You going to move at some point, or have you taken up permanent resident status here?” Nile asks, appearing at his side where Nicky has spent the last half-hour molded to the furthest left corner of the solid black bar. “I know you have an excellent view, but.”

Nicky snorted, though only Nile could actually tell, “Why waste a good opportunity?”, momentarily ceasing his Joe watching to stare back into the depths of his glass, which currently contained some horrifically shocking pink abomination, Nicky’s second drink, since he was letting the bar tender dictate them, too utterly distracted to care what was touching his lips, and curious with the way the bar tender had delighted in being given free reign to make whatever he desired.

To be fair, it didn’t taste that bad-something frighteningly sugary and weirdly noxious smelling, but it’s not exactly ‘crime against humanity’ levels of alcoholic nightmares.

“You and Andy seem to be competing for who hates being here the most” Nile says, interrupting his alcoholic ruminations.

“Do we? Can’t say I’m aware, I’ve hardly seen her."

“Which is intentional, she keeps vanishing to the gardens, I think she has every exit memorized.”

“Vital information, that.” Nicky reminds her, unnecessarily, bringing the glass-was it crystal? Fake crystal? Glass? Did he care? To his lips, swallowing a mouthful of hyper colour and disappointment while Nile looked on, amused.

“Is that even worth the eleven bucks?”

“Is any drink?”

“Starbucks”

“Those are customized, you’re paying for sugar and artistry..”

His voice trails, familiar laughter close by catching his eye, his gaze darting back to the dance floor.

Joe, predictably, is engaged in some conversation with his own little crowd of people. Nicky counts three women and two men, he thinks, making a semi-circle around him, engrossed in whatever tale or story or adventure Joe has captured them with.

It is, Nicky thinks, entirely unfair and wonderfully perfect how delicious and put together Joe appears. He’s always worn clothes well, and Nicky is certain he could make any attire look it’s best, regardless of how worn, old or bizarre. 

Though there is certainly nothing bizarre about his suit tonight, which Nicky has already drunk in twice over and is more than happy to do so further, relishing in how every new twist and turn of his body presents another angle to explore.

Joe shifts, then, his own personal crowd parting some, and Nicky takes a moment to bask in the newly revealed expanse of his chest, covered by the ivory toned dress shirt and red wine velvet waistcoat, overlaid with a black suit jacket left open at the sides, allowing his chest to be on full display in the ornate vest purposefully. (He’d picked that vest deliberately; Nicky knew he was showing it off). The stitched in floral pattern nearly invisible from a distance but crafted to give the waistcoat texture and form.

The waistcoat went more tapered and snug towards the hips, stopping just where the smooth black dress pants began, leading towards the blindly shiny black dress shoes that have a much more rubberized sole than they might appear to have, keeping the outfit mission-ready and smart in the same breath.

(And, the fact that Nicky knows a hefty medium sized dagger is tucked beneath the waist coat, hidden entirely from view sends a sharp, radiating thrill through Nicky.)

The entire ensemble is devastating enough, but Joe has chosen to dress it up subtly to make it a true game-changer. Instead of a tie, he’d opted for a silver collar chain, which clipped to the stiff collar of the dress shirt and hung delicately across the top of his chest where a tie would originally sit, as well as his rings, a smooth black watch and light cologne that Nicky is too far away to smell but knows is there anyway, shifting a little against the bar in memory of it’s earthen, woodsy scent.

The crowds moving again, Joe smoothly snagging a long-stemmed champagne glass from a passing tray, thanking the waiter, and catching Nicky’s gaze just over the rim of it. Fixating his intense, warm brown gaze upon him and slowly, but surely, winking.

Nicky grunted, his grip on his not-crystal pink drink glass tightening enough that Nile frowns. Nicky temporarily having forgotten she was standing there.

“What did the glass do to you?” She asked, clearly amused.

Nicky doesn’t respond, turning his body away from the main floor (Joe’s long gone back to his little entertainment spiel to his gathering), swallowing another mouthful of pink abomination.

“Do we have anything?” He asks, instead, Nile shakes her head, “Best guess is he’s not arrived yet.”

‘He’ being their damned target.

Nicky fights back a sigh, turning instead to take in Nile now, though with a far different gaze than the hungry one Joe had been subjected to for the last several hours. She wears formal attire well, having donned a mid-length short-sleeved gown that’s too long to be considered a cocktail dress of sharp black with gold flecks that remind Nicky of star patterning, black flats and her hair pushed into a braided up-do that sits almost crown like.

The black purse sits snug enough to her shoulder, and Nicky knows there’s a knife in there somewhere, none of them were unarmed, even if they’d only had the chance for something small to keep on person.

The balance between formal attire and practicality for fighting was a tentative one-barely able to be pulled off entirely, but Nicky has to admire the way Nile’s still able to accessorize with her gold cross, two small gold bracelets on the wrist of her non-firing hand and make up that Nicky doesn’t know enough about to know what all is there, but he thinks the slightly glittery gold eyeshadow is a particularly nice touch.

He thinks, immediately, that Nile and Joe wear this stuff better than he does, but then, pretty much everyone wore clothes better than he did. It wasn’t from a lack of trying; he just never saw the point in worrying about it. Clothes were clothes. They covered you and kept you warm. And if they were going to be shot through later anyway, what was the point of overthinking it?

Besides-Joe never complained, and had many devious names for his various outfits that made Nicky flush and sputter with both pride and delight, so really..

Why worry?

He’d behaved tonight (so to speak) and while he’s nowhere near as elegantly done up as Joe, he looks enough the part. His outfit is basic enough for a suit-black jacket, black pants, black shoes. But he’d attempted to give it some gusto with a dark midnight blue dress shirt, no vest and a black bowtie.

(He kept his hair the same, as did Joe, though Nicky knew Joe’s looked much better than his flat style.)

Joe liked him in blue the best, and he’d received a very nice once over and a whistle for it, so he considered it a success even in the midst of Joe’s personal fashion show.

“Nicky.”

Shit. Had Nile been talking the entire time?

He forced himself out of his thoughts, “Sorry, did you say something?”

Instead of answering, she turned herself, deliberately angling her body sideways to give Nicky a clear view of the entrance way to the west end of the ballroom, but still provide him with some coverage.

Oh, fucking finally.

Nicky considered how to get Joe’s attention, but he could see-even from the corner of his eye-his husband’s eyes were just as fixated on the entrance way as his were, and Nicky had a momentary flash of gratitude for his expertise and smooth synchronicity with him.

Their target did not make much of a scene upon entering-despite being the host, and Nicky could see the glare from Nile’s phone as she kept the majority of her back to them, knowing she was checking their information as subtly as possible, taking coverage in Nicky’s side, shadowed.

He was, as Copley had predicted, one of six. Himself and five others. A balding middle- aged man that didn’t have enough height to stand out from that alone, but certainly enough glaring presence to command a room regardless.

“Four are guards”, Nile murmured, Nicky giving her a nod of agreement.

They didn’t stand out as such-all fairly average in size and dressed in suits, but Nicky knew better anyway.

The fifth was not a guard, he guessed, but what Nicky assumed to be the second in command. He was much taller than his boss, and younger, sharp blonde hair kept close cropped but weirdly blinding all the same.

The crowd has begun to take notice, people slowly starting to flock forward, their main target accepting them with fake smiles and faker warmth, Nicky bringing his glass back to his mouth to obscure some of his expression as he watches, already taking stock of any weak spots in his scanning, knowing that somewhere else Joe is doing the exact same.

There’s slight movement near the group, a black-tuxed figure Nicky immediately recognizes as Andy, shuffling snake like from the small crowd trying to get themselves closer to their target for whatever meager attention he might grace them with.

The tux had been a wise choice, Nicky thought. Not only allowing her movement but looking good enough to create the perfect image of casual attendee and playful flare that tended to throw people off. Keeping their attentions from more pertinent things.

And, well, she looked good. That was undeniable. All crisp lines from the black jacket and pants to the white linen shirt and bow tie, finished off with dark purple boots, just because.

She wore no jewelry, but Nicky knew her necklace was tucked under her collar, as well as the dagger and pocketknife she had stashed on her. Nicky had two knives, himself, one in each side of the jacket. The weight of their presence, secret and hidden, comforts him.

She says nothing, catching his gaze, Nile’s and Joe’s in order, Nile sliding her phone into her purse and straightening, pushing herself from the counter and gliding through the room to meet up with Andy.

Nicky’s pink hellscape drink is near it’s end, and it’s a single swallow taken as he stands that finishes it off, leaving the glass abandoned at the counter and beginning to walk towards the centre of the ballroom.

If they can make a semi-circle around their target and his group, they can gather some necessary information of his movements, for a good attack point.

Ideally, if all went as planned, Nicky would excuse himself from the party at some point, Joe following a short distance, his sniper already set up in the hotel room that looked out towards this very villa, and take out their target and his five associates with the shots while Andy and Nile worked the ground and pulled the fire alarm after the signal.

Copley had told them that the party had a dual purpose and that a meeting would be taking place on one of the upper floors and that if they timed and planned it well enough, they could take out all six targets in a single room. Which would allow Andy and Nile to escape undetected once the alarm was pulled and leave the rest to Copley.

All in all, quick, clean and easy.

If it all went to plan, of course. Their target had just arrived, an hour later than planned, and that alone meant that Nicky couldn’t be sure when they could take their chance.

He’s nearing the center of the ballroom now, attempting to scope out a good vantage point, when there’s obvious movement near his elbow, Nicky forcing himself not to tense at the unfamiliar presence.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” A woman’s voice says, Nicky having a feeling she’s the exact opposite, “Would you care to dance?”

Nicky wanted anything but, frankly. But he’s not exactly a rude sort and Joe has apparently been crowd swallowed again.

If nothing else, dancing would allow him a better coverage for moving and scoping. If he played it right, he’d be able to move himself closer to their target to give Andy and Nile some observance assistance.

So he turns, and offers his arm, taking a moment to notice the woman’s long strawberry blonde hair and sharp, sparkly black dress.

“Certainly.” Not missing the way her face lights up from the smooth tone, accepting his hand about her mid-back, taking her other hand in his grip.

Dancing is easy enough, he’s done it for centuries, after all, and it’s not hard to give her half of his attention, gliding through the movements of the slightly up-beat, but steady tune filtering through the ballroom.

"You’re very good at this.” She smiles, impressed. (She’s keeping up with Nicky’s movements well, obviously well-rehearsed), “Although I am surprised you took my offer up, you seemed a little bit a stoic sort.”

“Did I?” Nicky’s barely listening, but she doesn’t seem to catch his tone, “Just shy, I suppose. Not much of a partier.”

She laughs, Nicky spinning them slightly, scanning the crowd as intensely as he can. “They’re a bit of an acquired sort, I suppose. I’m Olivia, Mr..?”

“Nick.” Because he’s not going to give her more to work with than that.

That does earn him a minuscule frown, but she doesn’t pester, “Well, Nick, I’m glad you can dance.”

The shift is immediate, a stiffness where there’d not been one before. Nicky wants to feel worse about it, but he’s trying to think and dance at the same time. And while that’s not difficult, he’s not used to having to blend in like this.

They preferred stealth ops for a reason, after all.

Another turn has him growing frustrated, even as the music begins to shift into another song. He can’t see Andy, or Nile, or the targets, and he’s attempting to strategize and not consider poor Olivia an entire afterthought.

“Excuse me.” A voice Nicky knows like his own breath interrupting his dancing monologue, “May I?”

Olivia turns, Nicky faintly amused by the way her entire being seizes, taking Joe in with widening eyes, just as taken as anyone by his beauty. “Oh..well.”

Joe gives her a smooth, but apologetic look, “Ma’am” simply extending his hand to Nicky, who’s already leaning into him.

She blinks, confused for only a moment, before simply turning on her heel and leaving them. Nicky feels like he should say something, but Joe’s already sliding into her place, shifting their arms some to take over the lead.

Nicky sighs, drawing his head forward to lean in, “Thank you.”

Joe only chuckled, gliding him into the middle of the floor, Nicky can tell they're moving closer to the walls now, the windows that showcase the outdoor gardens. Nicky relishing in the steady pressure at his lower back, saying everything without a single vocalization.

Until,

“11:10.” Confirming where Joe had been. Nicky holding back a sigh of relief. Glad that Copley’s intel had been consistent. “Just under an hour from now.” Nicky attempting not to shiver at the smooth Italian tickling his ear, “What room?” Grateful to get this damned mission over with.

“Middle, third floor. Andy’s canvasing.”

“Nile..?”

“With her.” Joe assured, keeping them close, using the coverage of a spin to indicate that their targets were currently surrounded, engaged in deep conversation near the back of the ballroom. “Go ahead, I’ll meet you.”

Nicky pushes forward, once, taking a second to absorb Joe’s scent, before reluctantly releasing him, meeting his gaze a moment.

Brown locks with green. Centuries of partnership centering them, grounding them both and easily allowing for the gears to shift, alter, securing their minds into mission mode. Where other thoughts remain locked away, secure, and safe.

Work can’t touch them there, nothing can.

Nicky inclines his head, once, and turns, leaving the ballroom in quick, easy strides. 

He has to admit, the gardens of the villa outside are lovely, sprawling and elegant. At any other time they’d be just the sort of thing Nicky would be relishing, luxuriating and basking in.

For now, he ignores them, bypassing them in his walk to the hotel, only giving the concierge a nod of acknowledgement that might’ve passed off as rude for it’s lack of engagement, stepping into the elevator and letting it take him upstairs.

In the room, the gun bag holding his sniper rifle sits on the glass coffee table, and Nicky takes great care to assemble it, checking it over and making sure there’s no risk for jamming and locking, pulling a chair to the window and sitting, keeping the sniper on his lap, fingers resting just so over the barrel as he sits and waits.

He’s still sitting, contemplating his options when the door opens.

Without turning, he says, “I’m going to need to use the balcony, these windows don’t open.”

Damned hotel windows.

Joe hums, “Can you get an angle from there?”

“Let’s see.”

Nicky stands, the rifle held in his hand. The balcony is just off to the side of their window, and while he still has a vantage point-he’d be at the side, meaning he’d have to angle himself and take longer.

“I sacrifice time, but it can be done.” Pushing the balcony door open with his free hand, Joe rooting around for his binoculars in the luggage.

“Go for it, then. I’ll cover.”

Nicky adjusts himself flat on his stomach, keeping the rifle positioned between the balcony bars, unimpressed with the angle.

“Joe.”

“Shift a bit to the right.”

He does, squirming a little to get a better angle, Joe instructing him by degrees until he has as best of a clear shot as he’s going to get.

“10:58” Joe says, positioned on his knees at Nicky’s left, glad there’s not much light out here. The last thing they needed was someone down below looking up and seeing them perched there.

Nicky bears down, the rifle tucked in, body flat to the balcony while Joe keeps his binoculars trained on their targets window.

They wait. Letting a familiar and peaceful stillness take over them. Nicky entirely secured in his ability to do the job as needed under Joe’s watchful eye.

They work in tandem, magnetic, and tuned. Relying as much on simple presence as they do words. Though in most cases, they can complete jobs in almost total silence, unified and serving as extensions of one another.

“One.” Joe says, at 11:03, meaning the first of their expected six has arrived in the room.

Nicky hasn’t moved an inch, his eye trained through the scope, seeing it as well.

“Two.” At 11:04

“Three and Four, together.” At 11:06

There’s a pause.

“Five.” Finally, at 11:09

Another pause, this one lasts much longer. The moment hanging by a thread, creating a tension in the air around them.

It ticks on. They’re both too well trained to move, but Nicky can feel Joe holding his breath a little more.

“Six.” At 11:13

Almost no time really, but the tension lessens.

Nicky waits another moment.

“Doors closed.”

Perfect.

He steadies, feeling his body tighten, the scope of the sniper fixated on the man closest to the window. One of the guards, he assumes.

It has to be quick; Nicky estimates four minutes at worst, readying himself.

The second he has a clear shot, he lets himself inhale, one sharp, slow intake, through his nose and fires.

It’s immediately devastating. Glass breaks, blood splatters, the body drops, and shouting commences. The casing caught in his palm even as he readies the second shot, the clicking of the round sharp in his ear.

The second shot is farther off than Nicky would have liked, but it hits the target all the same. The third is messier and ends up in the neck rather than the head like he’d have preferred.

His fourth throws him for a loop, taking him off his minute by minute trek and forcing Nicky to go for a chest shot when again, he wanted a head shot. The final two happen one right after the other, catching the last man just seconds before he can open the door. 

The last click is devastating in Nicky’s ear, the casings of his shells warm in his opposite palm, Joe doing a careful sweep of the room.

When nobody moves, he see’s Andy quickly slip in, check each body and then leave as fast as she came.

Joe backs up the same time as Nicky, the two of them moving like clockwork as the fire alarm blares from the villa. Nicky works on disassembling his rifle while Joe closes and locks the balcony door, neither of them speaking as the rifle and spent casings are tucked away, barely paying any mind to all the commotion down below and across from them as they flick the lights off and slip from the hotel room.

The hotel pool has a backdoor that leads to the yard, and that is how they escape, Andy and Nile already waiting in a car in the parking lot.

\----

It’s just a little past midnight when they check into another hotel, tucked a city away from where they’d been working.

Nile checks in with Copley, Andy bent over the hotels bar fridge, ignoring Joe’s quip about her mortal alcohol tolerance, flipping him off over her shoulder and picking through bottles.

Joe’s laughter is warm in his ear, Nicky able to feel the slight movement beneath his palm where he’s got it rested on his stomach. The two of them sharing the love seat while Nile closes her laptop, sitting back in her own chair and yawning.

None of them have changed yet. Choosing to sit and talk before eventually bedding down for the night. Nicky can’t say he’s remiss to not bask more in Joe’s suit, relishing in the way Joe’s arm is a steadying presence against his shoulders.

Finally, Andy joins them, collapsing into the chair nearest Nile with a bottle of raspberry vodka in hand, unscrewing it and taking a swig under Joe’s disapproving gaze.

“Boss..”

“Joe.” Andy retorts, her voice just this side of dangerous, but Nicky can hear the affection there too, “It’s flavoured, less alcoholic that way.”

Nile snorts, “That is not how that works.” Reaching over to tap the number near the bottom, clearly indicating the strength of it. Andy just huffs, taking another swig, resting the base of the bottle against her stomach.

As far as missions were concerned, it had been a complete success. Low engagement (so to speak) and smooth. If nothing else, it boded well for future work under Copley’s assistance.

(Nicky refused to consider it leadership, thank you very much.)

Nicky’s not feeling very talkative, content to sit and relax, so he’s grateful when Joe takes the lead.

“It went well,” His words for all of them, but most focused towards Andy.

Predictably, she says little, only grunting and taking another swig, Nile cocking a brow at her.

“He’s right. If we can do this, like this, it’s worth it. Adapt.” Something contemplative in her tone, considering. 

“It could have been worse.” Andy finally says, prompted by silence, “At least it’s clean.” Hardly meaning it. Neither of them were ever against getting dirty, but it was nice to come from a mission without having to take six showers before they felt human again.

Still, they count it as a victory.

\----

Far later, tired and tucked into their room, Nicky lazily tracing kisses along Joe’s jawline, he speaks again.

“You look good in a crowd, mesmerizing. You like it, don’t you? World in the palm of your hand.”

Joe snorts, opening one eye to squint at him in the dark, flat on his back with Nicky tucked up and pillowed against his chest, “I would hardly think a handful of people on a ballroom floor is the entire world, love.”

“You know what I mean.” Adding a hint of teeth, delighting in the victorious hiss he gets in return, “Your charming, people congregate, moths to a flame. Hard to blame them, you shine so brightly.”

Joe hums, tilting his head into the bite, considering. “It is nice, being able to do that. Being able to take a moment and just..”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to, Nicky knows.

It’s nice to pretend they can be something akin to regular people. Not always having to take to the shadows, hidden from view.

Even if it’s temporarily, and with the heavy weight of something else afloat.

“I love watching you.” Nicky says, instead. “Your charm, your poise. How you can entertain even the most stubborn audience, you positively glow, Yusuf.”

He uses his given name just to feel the tension beneath his palm, the hitching in his breathing. Centuries of adaption and aliases had forced them to many identities, but they started as Yusuf and Nicoló and no matter how much time passed, that is how Nicky would always think of them in his heart.

“Nicoló, you are positively devastating.” Joe whispers, Nicky humming warmth into him, securing himself in the base of his heart, his soul.

For a long stretch, he says nothing, merely nibbling and basking in subtle movement of Joe beneath his fingers, only breaking the silence to draw him forward into a slow, lazy kiss that stretches unhurried from seconds to minutes.

It slows steadily, until they’ve drifted off to sleep, morning still far enough away that, for now, they can relax, entwined, and secure.

As always.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been in the works since the 30th July, when I originally began typing my phone notes. I had a lot of ideas before hand about how it might go, and some of it is completely shameless self indulgence. Basically, I really wanted:
> 
> Nicky and Joe in formal wear.  
> Andy and Nile in formal wear. (I wanted to get Andy into a tux ok).  
> The idea that's been pestering me of how Joe would probably be the best one for a party, he's so charming, smooth and elegant. I can envision it well. I also think that Nicky really enjoys watching Joe like that *and any time but still*, and that he'd have a grand old time observing. 
> 
> Gratuitous descriptions of formal wear I went a bit ham on.
> 
> I didn't use Andy as much as I had originally intended, but that's entirely my fault on not having the flow fit it. This fics been nagging me for days, and I've been working on it steadily. I may just have to write another one. Aha.
> 
> Joe and Nicky's working relationship fascinates me as much as their spousal relationship. In my many rewatches, I'm just enthralled by how unified they are. Exploring that gives me endless ideas.
> 
> I'm babbling far too much, I may have to put more of the rambles on [Tumblr](coffeebeannate.tumblr.com). (Link provided in the word)
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Also, sorry these are still un-beta'd. Grammar and clunky writing all my own.


End file.
